I'm Not Drunk Enough for This
by Kiiriminna
Summary: Peter, Drax, Rocket and Kraglin alone in the bar. There's talking about kinks in this fic, and while nothing explit is said or happening, some readers may find some of these disturbing. Peter/Gamora, past Peter/Other(s), past Drax/His wife (Hovat), Drax/Mantis (implied), past Kraglin/Yondu, one-sided (?) Blackjack O'Hare/Rocket.
1. I'm Not Drunk Enough for This

Gamora had once again chosen to take an early departure, dragging baby-Groot with her and followed shortly by Nebula. Mantis had stayed, but that was mostly because she'd already passed out and now snored happily against Drax's shoulder, so that basically it was just Peter, Drax, Rocket and Kraglin in the bar.

That said, there was no-one to put a filter in Peter's mouth as he blurted out, "What is the strangest kink that any of your partners has ever had?"

Silence. If any connection between Peter's head and mouth had been working, now would have been the moment for him to empty his mug and hit the bed. But because that didn't happen, he just looked at his friends with a completely innocent smile upon his face.

"Because", he continued, "believe me, I've seen _all_. But I'll give you a try; go on. You'll never top my story, anyways…"

"Is it about Gamora? Because if it is, I don't wanna hear it", Rocket remarked.

"No, I'm not suicidal", Peter reassured. "Now come on, let's hear it; or are you all going to chicken out?"

Now that was a dare, and no-one would say that Drax was one to retreat from the challenge. "My wife", he said with a voice that was little too load to comparing of the topic of their discussion, "always took her knives to the bed with her. She used them to carve me a new mark every time we made love, so that I would remember…" the warriors smile turned wistfully as it always did when he remembered his late wife. "She was quite skilled with them, too…"

"Wait – are you telling me that some of those tattoos are made by her? Which ones?" Rocket interrupted, gesturing towards Drax's pattern-covered upper body.

"No, her markings are lower; I can –" Drax started to stand up, making Mantis reel and hit her head on the table. She moaned softly, but didn't wake up.

"No! There's no need!" Peter said hurriedly, not wanting to even think about Drax dropping his pants down in the middle of bar. "Okay, that was very… sweet. So, Kraglin's next; what about you?"

The ravager's eyes went wide. "What? Who? Me?"

Peter smirked. "Hey, I'm sure you've got lots of stories to tell…"

"Ahem, I'm not sure… I really don't believe that _you_ of all people would like to hear of my, em…"

"What? Why not?"

Kraglin looked at him little sheepishly and said only one word, "Yondu."

Due his current state, it took a few seconds from Peter's hammered brains to catch up what was going on. "Wait – you and Yondu -?" he squawked.

"Yes", Kraglin admitted. "Um… surprise?"

"But, but, but… What? Since when?" Peter almost cried out. "Why the heck did nobody tell me?"

The ravager shrugged. "Never seemed necessary… Now, do you really want me to tell? Because I thought that it would be little strange, considering…"

"No, no! Not a word!" Peter yelled. No way did he want to think what kind of _bedroom habits_ his self-proclaimed daddy used to have… "I think I'm going to be sick…"

Drax turned to smile at Rocket. "So what about you, my furry friend?"

The _not_ -raccoon looked at him questioningly. "Huh?"

"Surely you aren't planning to stay out of the competition?" the warrior pressed on.

Despite his drunken state, Peter shuddered by that. It was so Drax-like to not take a heed of one, unsaid rule: Do not pry Rocket's past. Just… don't. "Drax, I don't think-"

Surprisingly, Rocket hadn't yet grabbed his gun, and the fact that he actually answered proved that he was more hammered that Peter had thought that he was. "Well, there was this one asshole; he used to masturbate while watching me to maintain my guns…"

"…What?"

"I said: There was this asshole who –"

"I heard what you said!" Peter corrected hurriedly. "I just – who? Was they like, you know… Was they like you?" Because no matter how intelligent Rocket was, he was still a raccoon, for goodness sake, and the idea of someone taking their junk out in front of him was… well, _disgusting_.

"There's no-one like me!" Rocket said firmly. "But he did come from the same _production line_ , so I guess one could say that we're somewhat similar… Even though he's a complete loser…"

"Oh. Well, good… I guess", Peter stammered. Never had Rocket told them that much about his past, and voluntary on top of that. "So… is there more of you? From the same "production line"?"

"There _was_. Me, Lylla, Wal Rus… Now only me and _that asshole_." Then Rocket apparently realized that he'd let out too much, since he glared Peter scornfully, making him to raise his hands up as a sign of surrender.

"I still don't understand", Drax pointed out. "Why would you trifling with your weapons to excite someone?"

"Hey, don't ask me how that maniac's brains work!"

Then Drax slapped Peter on the back in a way that for him was probably supposed to be a friendly tap, and said, "Your turn, Star-Lord! Now, let as hear your story."

Peter coughed to catch his breath before smirking sluggishly. "Okay, open your ears, because there was this one chick… She wanted to do it in a coffin, previously inhabited by a corpse…"

"I'm not drunk enough for this", Kraglin muttered and rose up, making his leave.

"… and filled with maggots", Peter shouted after him, victorious smile upon his face.

"I think that I should take Mantis to bed", Drax said and stood up with the snoring girl on his arms.

"So did you?" Rocket asked.

"What?"

"Do it."

Peter shrugged. "Well, she was a looker… But I made a strict limit on the point where she wanted us to be actually _buried under ground_ …"


	2. Pay Attention to Me!

Rocket the _not_ -Raccoon was toying with one of his guns, enjoying the sleekness of its design and the feel of metal and implied power of destruction it gave to him under his fingers.

"Rocket. Oy, Rocket!"

… At least he was trying to enjoy of it, and would have, had there not been his irritating _partner in crime_.

"Rocket - Hey, I'm talking to you here!"

They were cramped together in the smallest shithole for a hotel room that one could find from a planet full of shitholes, while waiting a message from their contact. There was good money available in this case, maybe enough to finally allow them to make the needed repairs to their ship and get them out of this blasted planet – if everything would go as planned, and why wouldn't it? They were _professionals_ , after all.

"Rocket! Hey, Rocky!"

Well, _he_ was, at least.

Rocket carefully removed the projectiles and started to disassemble the weapon, planning to give it a throughout cleaning. That would give him something to do duiring a wait, and it also made it easier to ignore his company.

Too bad that his company had no intentions to be left ignored.

"Rocky… Hey, come on…"

Rocket tried to mask his irritated snarl by concentrating into oiling a rag and starting to wipe the parts of the gun with it.

"Please, Rocky… Rocky-Pocky…"

Okay, _that_ went too far.

"What?" he growled, glaring at his partner.

The other smirked wildly. "Hey, I got you to look at me!"

Blackjack O'Hare was laying on his back on the only bed in the room (witch was probably invested with at lest ten different kinds of diseases – not that those could get through of their manufactured resistance), hanging his head over the edge so that the points of his long ears were sweeping the floor, and looking at Rocket from his upside-down position.

"Fine, I saw you; now shut up", Rocket sneered and got back to his work – or so he tried, but apparently Blackjack had got an another memo.

"But I'm bored!" he whined childishly. "Come one, you need to entertain me!" he then said with a wink.

"What? I'm not your bitch! …I saw some porn magazines under the rug, read those if you can't find any more reasonable way to pass time", he added with clear distaste.

The rabbit snorted. "Sorry, not interested. But really, there's no reason to speak about it with so dismissive tone; there's nothing wrong with healthy amount of sex."

"It serves no practical purpose."

"… You mean, because there's no conception? Oh come on, its okay to do it just for fun!"

"If it has no point, it's only a waste of time", Rocket insisted.

"But it _has_ a point; and the point is: it feels great!"

Rocket snorted and went back to his work.

"You know", Blackjack said after a while, "you really look sexy like that."

Rocket whipped his head around to stare at him, hoping that he'd just heard wrong while knowing that it was unlikely. "What?"

Blackjack had moved into a sitting position, his legs crossed and thoughtful look on his face. "You know, with you twiddling around with those clever, nifty little fingers and looking all intense and dedicated and even little feral…" Did Rocket just imagine it, or was the crazy rabbit almost salivating? (Please let it be just his imagination…) "I think I could jerk off while watching you like this."

(So not his imagination.) "What?!"

Blackjack smirked. "Yeah, I totally could… mind if I do?" he asked, even while already zipping his pants open.

"Wha- Hey, put _that_ away!"

"Aww, what's the matter, Rocky-Pocky – became a blushing virgin all of suddenly, did you now?" Blackjack teased.

"You – why, do what you want!" Rocket snapped and returned his attention back to his work.

"Oh, sure I will", he heard Blackjack saying little breathily.

Shaking his head, Rocked tuned down the sounds the rabbit was making as well as he could, while still unable to keep the blush out of his face.

 _I_ so _need to find a new partner…_


End file.
